This is The Story of Us All
by PrInCeSsFBi
Summary: The son of Tony and Steve, Peter, in pictured moments with all of the Avengers. Clint comes home late, Natasha fights awkwardness and mothers, Thor goes on a grand adventure in the Park of the Central part of the city, and Bruce makes rock candy. There's just so many feelings it's impossible!
1. Clint

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

"Steve!"

Steve Rogers groaned into his pillow pulling away from the incessant shaking his body was so cruelly receiving at such an ungodly hour.

"Steve, wake up!"

"Mhgah, what?" Steve blinked several times staring at Tony through pinched blue eyes. He glanced at the clock barely able to keep his eyes open in contrast to Tony who was wide eyed and dark hair wild with grease and oil. He smelled vaguely of smoke and coffee.

"Peter's missing."

Steve had to stare at Tony for a moment before narrowing in on the nervous twitch making Tony's body tremor.

"Are you drunk?" His tone was the specific one used on Tony that let the genius know that he was not welcome in bed if he was but Tony didn't care. He was more preoccupied with the missing child than the lecture from his husband at the moment.

"Our son is missing and you think I've been drinking, perfect, Steven. Love you too. We aren't having sex for a month."

Even if Steve did believe Tony could go that long without sex he wouldn't have gotten out of bed any faster. It was too early! Tony stepped back impatiently as Steve swung his legs over the mattress.

"He probably had another nightmare," Steve said reassuringly as he went to the dresser to pull a pair of pants on.

"I think he's been probed," Tony declared.

"What?!" Steve sputtered at the absurdity of Tony's resolution but with a look at his husband he could see the seriousness on his face. Now Steve knew Tony had been drinking which he would deal with later. He stalked out in the hallway, his husband following behind and talking faster than his normal stride.

"Think about it Steve. He's been acting weird for three days now."

"He's five, Tony-"

"He's _sulking, _Steven, sulking! Teenagers sulk. Not toddlers. I doubt he even knows what sulking is! Our child is nothing but sunshine and rainbows and for the past three days he's sulked and been drawing in his notebook. Our child is turning emo at the age of five! What's next? Huh? I'll tell you what! Drugs and teenage pregnancy and and...cross dressing!" Steve rolled his eyes and opened the door to Peter's room choosing to just to ignore Tony's ranting than respond. True to his word, Peter's bed was empty and after a quick scan Steve couldn't see any sign of the toddler. Flipping the light on he walked into the center of the room looking all around.

"Peter, bud, are you in here?"

Peter had gotten into the habit of hiding after nightmares. Minor ones of course. No, the really bad ones were the ones where either Steve or Tony lost the ability to breath after they had been dive bombed by the five year old in the middle of the night, but the less extreme ones always ended up with Peter sleeping in the bathtub or in his pillow fort. The two waited a moment for a response. When they got none Steve looked around for anything out of place. There was nothing. Tony turned to him expectantly, his brows raised to match his matter of fact frown.

"Did you check with JARVIS," Steve asked scanning the room for any clues. Tony shook his head. Steve checked under the bed and through the closet even so much as peering through the ventilation shaft but he came up empty.

"JARVIS is running a data inspection check. He's offline for another half an hour. Coincidence? I think not!"

It was really to early for Tony's conspiracy theories for Steve who ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. He made his way out of the room, Tony hot on his heels.

"Where are you going?"

"To look for Peter. He's gotta be somewhere in here."

"Unless he was kidnapped and you've already wasted valuable time!"

"Peter knows what to do if something like that happens. His panic button didn't go off and nothing in his room says anyone else was in the room besides us when we went to put him to sleep." Steve glanced over his shoulder and caught the pale panicked look on Tony's face, his deep brown eyes drowning in worry. The blond stopped and made Tony look at him, his irritation suddenly disappearing at his husband's raw expression. "Look, he probably went to hide from his nightmare. I'm sure he's fine. Why don't you go look in your lab? You know he likes to hang out there. And if not there, maybe Bruce's."

Tony nodded and rushed down to the workshop. Steve sighed again before turning on his heel. His searches and calls were unavailing. Nothing in the playroom, nothing in the rec room, nothing in the study/conference room. With each of his searches he began to feel the drapes of sleep leave him and a nervous itch started to fill his gut. _He probably fell back asleep in where ever he found himself in _Steve thought to calm the panic_. _Steve made his way into the living room, the wide skyline of New York leaking light in enough for him to see around the furniture. He walked along the windows getting a full view of the room. The light began to play tricks on him and for a moment he thought he had saw Peter curled up on the couch but with further inspection it was only the rumbled uniform of Clint who must have returned home from his mission earlier that night.

Steve foot slammed into the small drawing table by the window and he gasped out before clenching his teeth against a curse. His toe throbbed in pain and he had to bounce away from the table. The notebook full of Peter's drawings fell to the floor and Steve bent down to pick it up, the fast footfalls of Tony echoing through the hallway.

"Anything?"

"No. I asked Bruce and he hasn't seen him either. What happened to you?" Tony tilted his head walking over as Steve grabbed at the crayons on the ground with a swipe of his hand.

"I hit the table."

Tony made a sound at the back of his throat and walked towards the blonde his fists clenching and unclenching in a nervous twitch. He acknowledge the piled uniform on his couch with a jerk of his head.

"Barton come home?"

Steve could only shrug, he was still too asleep to be more in-depth on that detail at the unspoken way they always asked whenever the archer came home, come home meaning should technically be in medical not Stark Tower. He would check Clint out in the morning and send him down to Bruce if necessary. Looking down at the notebook he flipped through the pages of the colorful blobs decorating the pages.

"What's Peter's table doing over here," Steve asked as he studied the pictures with a small smile on his face.

"I don't know. He brought it over here when he started he started planning to runaway from home."

"He didn't runaway from home, Tony," Steve scolded his husband before looking back down at the pictures. There were a bunch of himself and Tony together as their respective superheroes with a lot of Thor and stars, Natasha and spiders, and Bruce's head with a giant green body. The last few pages were devoted to a bunch of birds with sticks and a consecutive page devoted to each of the Avengers' team with a bird and a stick.

"Forget it. I'm calling Fury. I'm calling Black Widow back home and Thor needs to get his ass back on planet. I don't care if-"

"Wait." Steve's brain was whirling too fast for him to keep up. He marveled at how Tony could do this every night as the idea began to form in his head clawing through the deep shadows of sleep deprivation and dancing out in success of the lightbulb. Tony arched a brow at Steve not seeing the dots begin to connect until Steve bit his lip looking at Tony.

"That's either a really unattractive thinking face or you want to have sex and as much as I love you I think you're missing the bigger picture here because our son is missing!"

"I know where he is."

"Wha-What? Where?" Steve's gut was whooping and hollering from the sidelines in a way that just made him walk with a determined march down the hallway and to the bedrooms. Tony was rushing after him still looking confused until they made it to the door he needed. With a press of a button the door opened and the husbands walked into the room and up to the large lofted area that had the largest view of the city skyline. In the middle was a mattress on the floor, the owner hadn't wanted actual furniture, and on the bed was a correlation of deep purple sheets, a large gray down comforter, and the passed out figure of Clint 'Hawkeye' Barton with a perfectly safe Peter curled on his arm. Clint barely looked like he made it to the mattress, his shirt haphazardly clinging to his torso and legs hidden in gray sweat pants. He was snoring and a hand with his shooting glove still on was splayed on his chest with his other extended out to his side pillowing Peter's head.

Steve ushered Tony out of the room knowing the spy would hear them otherwise.

"Clint left for a mission three days ago." Steve explained to Tony's still dumbfounded expression.

"I'm still trying to decide if that's incredibly adorable or just to damn annoying that Barton's gotten to our child and is converting him against us."

"Either way you'll have pictures in the morning I'm sure." Steve gave Tony a peck on the lips before his body pulled back to his bedroom.


	2. Natasha

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

**a/n: I don't speak Russian, I am not Russian, and I don't know any Russians so I resorted to google. I apologize for the the inaccuracy if it's there. **

Natasha Romanoff was a highly trained assassin. She was Russian. She was deadly. She was an alluring red head that could kill you with a piece of Scotch tape. In her lifetime she had put on the wardrobe of many characters with one goal in common: completion of the mission. She was the Black Widow.

She was not awkward.

Yet here she was, sitting in a chair that forced her knees up slightly higher than what would generally be considered ladylike, with the familiar creep of awkwardness crawling up her neck like the spider she represented. She didn't really understand what was causing such a reaction. She had dressed for the part, jeans that hugged to her hips and cuffed at the ankle, a green button down blouse that rolled to her elbows so they wouldn't get in the way of her hands, and glasses to conceal her basic eye makeup. She even had her hair up in a short ponytail, though a few curls fell along her temple. She looked the part. She was wearing sneakers! Still, even with her well trained mind she couldn't fathom why the other women, similarly dressed and sitting in equally uncomfortable chairs, continued to stare at her like she had just killed a puppy. But every time she would look back they would look away and the few that at least acknowledged that they had been caught would give her short lived half smiles before looking at their phones as if they had gone off.

She was seriously considering calling in Barton for back-up, though he was probably still chuckling to himself back at the tower, when a blonde woman awkwardly scooted her chair to Natasha before leaning over.

"Hi, I'm Debbie and this is Lisa." She pointed to another blonde who only gave a wave and smiling at Natasha like she was staring into the sun and it was burning her retinas. "We're Julia and Christine's moms."

"Natasha," Tasha said. They paused for a moment and she was sure their cheeks began to strain at their smiles.

"Who's your little special one?" Lisa was incredibly chipper to the point she wasn't even hiding the force in her voice.

"Peter."

"Oh!" Debbie exclaimed though she blinked trying to remember exactly who Peter was. Lisa leaned over to her ear.

"That's the boy with _two_ dads," She said in a feign whisper as if it was the most scandalized piece of information. Natasha dropped her smile and narrowed her eyes with a look that sent Lisa reeling back. She laughed nervously before dropping her gaze back to her cellphone and began typing quickly.

"Oh so...are you his...nanny?" Debbie tried though her cheeks really were twitching with muscle strain.

"Aunt."

"Oh..."

The evil mothers were only sparred of Natasha's glare as the class of first graders came into the classroom in a single file line promptly making rows of five. The teacher, an older woman in a sweater smiled to the group of ladies sitting in the audience before turning back to the kids. Peter spotted Natasha and with a toothy grin waved to her. She waved back with a smile aware that Lisa and Debbie were watching her like a hawk now. Definitely should have brought Barton. The cue to pull out the cameras was given and following suit with the other mothers Natasha pulled out her Stark phone, pressing record before the chorus began their song.

_Mothers, Aunts, Sisters_

_We love you all_

_You feed us when we are hunger_

_Take care of us when we're sick_

_But most of all you love us everyday_

_Happy Mother's Day_

_We love you _

There were some more words but Natasha couldn't hear most of it over the blubbering coming from the women she had been herded with.

After the song and a few moments for the mothers to collect themselves they were presented with a presentation from everyone's kid who brought in pictures and other visual aids. Timmy's mother was a lawyer who liked to fly kites in Central Park, Jessica's mother was a professional golfer, and Paolo's mother made pizzas. When Peter stood up with a proud picture of a spider that had pipe cleaners for legs glued on the paper the coolest person in the room suddenly became the master assassin trained to stay under the radar.

"My Auntie Tasha loves spiders," Peter said this with a smug grin as the boys all gaped in excitement. "Her favorite is the Black Widow. I drew one on here."

Debbie and Lisa were terrified. Natasha smirked.

"She also is a ballerina when she has time off from work." The girls who were completely unimpressed by the spider thing cooed in excitement.

"What does your Aunt Tasha do, Peter?" The teacher guided. Peter grinned before giving a wild kick.

"She kicks butt!"

The mothers laughed and Natasha smiled back at Peter's self satisfied grin. She gave him a wink and he gave her, her gift before sitting down.

When the presentations were over, Natasha was busy texting the video to Tony when the clapping began. They had progressed from the classroom to the cafeteria and Debbie and Lisa sat with Natasha at her table though on the complete other end. A pink paper plate was set in front of her with some indistinguishable breakfast food and Peter launched himself into her arms.

"It's a spider pancake," the six year old whispered into her ear. Debbie and Lisa cooed and awed at their daughters' own creations gushing on about how their fathers would be jealous and what an amazing job they did. Natasha nuzzled her nose against Peter's with a smile.

"Thank you paunchok."

When Natasha left the school with the rest of the mothers at half past noon, Happy waiting outside for her, she was caught off guard by the hollow feeling in her chest despite the fact that she caught Debbie and Lisa watch her drive off. Delicately she pulled open the brown paper bag wrapping and out fell a heavy bracelet tied with yarn and painted various colors. She wasn't one to be nostalgic, it wasn't an option with her job, but it had ripped at her insides to have to leave the school without Peter in tow. Clutching the bracelet to in her hand she leaned back to reign in her emotions. If this is what Steve and Tony had to put up with everyday she was perfectly content to just live through the spoils of parenthood through their own kid.

Natasha stopped outside of the elevator at the familiar jingle in the living room.

_Happy Mother's Day_

_We love you _

"My baby!"

"Our kid is the next Adele!"

Yep, Natasha was going to be going to a lot of Mother Day's at school for the unforeseeable future. And somewhere deep in the assassin she was ok with that she decided putting her charm bracelet made out of clay beads in her pocket.


End file.
